


Not For Sale

by Sanalith



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 11:21:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1385764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanalith/pseuds/Sanalith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Directly after receiving the gift of a library in the Dark Castle, Belle thanks Rumpelstiltskin for not trading her to the Sheriff of Nottingham for information about Robin Hood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not For Sale

“You’re not who I thought you were.” The smile Belle gave him lit up the room with its beauty, as she laid a gentle hand upon his arm. “And I’m glad.”

Rumpelstiltskin felt the Dark One inside him howl with rage. He was supposed to be _exactly_ what she’d thought he was. A monster who toyed with people as though they were his puppets, to be used and discarded at his whim. A demon who stole pretty damsels from their families and locked them in dungeons to cry themselves to sleep at night. A beast who had no qualms with torturing and kill thieves.

Instead, she saw him as a man who gifted her with the greatest treasure she could imagine - a library, filled with more books than she could read in two lifetimes. He’d shown mercy to a man and his lover…and their unborn child.

This could not stand. It would not! But she continued to smile at him as though she cared, and touched him as though his ugly appearance did not repulse her. What was he to do with one such as she?

Once again taking the coward’s way out, Rumpelstiltskin shook himself free of her arm and gave her a brief nod. “Enjoy your books then, dearie. And remember, not one speck of dust when I return!”

Belle gave a silvery laugh, but before he could turn, her face became serious and she reached out as if to touch him again. “Rumpelstiltskin, wait. I wanted…I wished to say…”

She bit her lip, suddenly uncertain, and for the first time in their acquaintance, could not meet his eyes. Curious in spite of himself, Rumpelstiltskin halted. He‘d never seen her quite so uncomfortable. “Yes?”

Taking a deep breath, Belle forced herself to continue, though her voice was hurried and lacked its normal strength. “I wanted to say thank you,” she rushed, “for not…trading me to the sheriff for information. I know you would have been within your rights to…” She paused, struggling. Despite her extensive reading, she was still the virginal daughter of a lord, after all. “…to _give_ me to him, especially as you’re known for making deals. I…appreciate that you did not, and I wanted to tell you so. That’s all.”

Rumpelstiltskin had no idea what he’d expected her to say, but certainly not this. She still kept her eyes lowered, her pearly white teeth nibbling delicately on her lower lip. She hadn’t shown this much hesitation even when confronting him about torturing Robin Hood and threatening to kill him.

But could he blame her, truly? He gave no thought to murder, but when that drunken lout had dared to bargain for Belle - calling her a wench of all things! He'd had the audacity to imagine sullying her with his touch, pawing at her with his dirty hands and crude tongue. And then to disgrace her even further by claiming he’d use her like a whore and discard her after a mere 20 minutes! If Rumpelstiltskin had her in his arms, soft and willing, he would never _dream_ of letting her leave after____

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head violently, dislodging such thoughts from his mind Even if she did treat him like the human he no longer was, he had no business thinking of her in such a way. It made him no better than the pathetic sheriff.

But what could he say? He certainly couldn’t admit the truth, that the man’s words had tossed him back in time - centuries back! - to a poor, lame spinner he could hardly remember, standing on the deck of a pirate ship. An arrogant voice chided him for daring to ask for his wife back, for the mother of his son, because the captain and his crew had _needs_ she could fulfill. He and Milah might not have loved one another then, but the idea of her being used by these men, one after the other, until she was nothing but a husk of her former self…He’d thought that pain long buried, but somehow it seemed even worse now, when applied to Belle. Beautiful, pure Belle, who deserved nothing but goodness and light, and had instead thrust herself into darkness to save her little kingdom.

But Killian Jones had taught him a valuable lesson that day, though he wouldn’t realize it until much later. A man _did_ have a responsibility to fight for what was his. He did not deserve it otherwise. And now Rumpelstiltskin had that power, and more. He would never allow anything, or anyone, to be taken from him again.

Yes, that sounded better to him. It wasn’t about Belle, it was about power. He nodded to himself. The sheriff had tried to take something that belonged to him, even temporarily, and that was not to be borne. Nothing more, nothing less.

Attempting to be dismissive of her thanks, as she was clearly waiting for a response, Rumpelstiltskin flicked his fingers at her. “It’s no matter, dearie. I told you in the carriage that I was extremely possessive of my things.” He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t like to share. Simple as that.”

He saw Belle’s eyes narrow slightly when he blatantly compared her to his other trinkets and treasures, but then to his chagrin, she smiled slightly. “You may have thrown me in a dungeon and threatened to kill a man in front of me,” she said dryly, “while playing the blame squarely on my shoulders, I might add. But you’ve never treated me as a _thing_ , Rumpelstiltskin.” She finally looked him in the eye. “Not like _he_ did. Not like that.”

How was it possible she continued to rob him of his words? At three hundred years old, nothing had surprised him in decades, and now this little slip of a girl seemed to do so daily. Could she leave him nothing of his armor, his pride?

“Yes, well.” He managed to shrug, uncaring. “It was clearly a bad deal to begin with. I knew I could get information out of him without giving up anything in return, so why should I bother?”

“Ah, I see.” Belle swayed closer, her smile growing. “So you were just practicing good business, is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes. Yes, that’s it exactly.” He nodded firmly.

“And, if another deal came up in the future, where you _couldn’t_ get what you wanted without trading something, and I was the only option available?”

Damn and blast! He hadn’t seen the trap until he’d walked right into it!

Belle stared up with him, blue eyes wide and innocent but her smile knowing. What could he say? She’d never be for sale, not for any price, and that was the truth of it. But the Dark One inside him snarled that _everyone_ was dispensable. What if she was the only option in a deal he had to make? What if he could trade her for the way to find Baelfire?

And what would Bae say if he did?

Glaring at her, Rumpelstiltskin slipped back into his imp persona and poked his finger in her face. “You ask to many questions, dearie, especially when you should be doing other things, like cleaning. I’ve half a mind to lock this room right back up for your impertinence!”

Belle laughed once again, grasping his hand lightly. “Of course. I’ll get to work on it first thing in the morning.” She squeezed his hand lightly, making it shiver. “I suppose I’ll be heading down to the…my room now.” She released him, giving him the hint of a curtsy. “Goodnight, Rumpelstiltskin. And thank you.” Her eyes turned serious. “Whatever you can’t say, I understand, but you can’t stop me from being grateful. And I am, truly.”

He had no words for her as she glided out of the room, every inch the princess she never was. But her eyes haunted him, her sincere gratitude filling his heart with an emotion he hadn’t felt since the loss of his son. She’d been afraid, he realized, without ever truly showing it. She was right, he _could_ have traded her and there would have been no repercussions. She’d been raised on the darkest tales of him, she’d seen him torture a man nearly to death, and they’d been on the way to finish the job. She had no real reason to expect anything but the worst of him. Nothing but her own belief that somewhere, deep down inside, there was still something left of his shriveled old heart.

There were too many things he’d never say to her, things he _couldn’t_ ever say. But when Belle woke the next morning, she found herself no longer shivering away on a hard pallet in the dungeon, but cuddled in a warm nightgown under covers of fur in a warm tower room, a blazing fire in a large hearth near her canopied bed. A new dress hung across the room, the shade a perfect match for her sky blue eyes.

And Belle smiled, the silence filled with all the words she’d ever need.


End file.
